Paper and Planes
by DearMyDreamer
Summary: Two hours. That was how long Morgana had been waiting for her flight to switch out of the red condemning delayed status, and she was about two paper airplanes short of blowing a fuse.


Two hours.

That was how long Morgana had been waiting for her flight to switch out of the red condemning _delayed _status, and she was about two paper airplanes short of blowing a fuse.

When she explained this to her brother over the phone, he didn't get it. He didn't see the big deal in waiting a little while for the plane tire to be changed, and he didn't see the harm in the _grown ass man_ sitting behind her in the lobby to be tossing paper airplanes at Morgana's head in a consistent, annoying stream.

"_Maybe he just likes you,_" her brother said (after laughing so loud that Morgana had to pull the phone away from her ear). "_Did the papers say anything?_"

"Stupid things," she grumbled, glaring accusingly at the unfolded stack at her feet. "Like, _you're hotter than a carolina reaper_, then _fyi that's the hottest pepper on earth_, then, _so you're hot enough to kill a man._ I'm not sure if he's trying to flatter me or insult me, honestly."

_"He's probably trying to convey terror at the sight of you, which I completely understand."_

"It's better than the nausea people get at the sight of _you,_" she shot back casually. "How is your darling boyfriend, by the way? Still sick?"

_"His bout of the flu has nothing to do with me."_

She smirked at the pout in his voice. "Keep telling yourself that."

_Tick_.

Morgana winced as another paper airplane found its way into her wild black curls. She had a growing suspicion that the man was just trying to see if he could get them to stick in there without her noticing. He was certainly immature enough.

She picked the plane off her shoulder and muttered, "Call you back," before abruptly hanging up the phone. Her brother was used to it.

She unfolded the new plane and almost immediately rolled her eyes.

_I have a thing for dead sexy women._

"Is that guy bothering you, miss?"

And just like that, another asshole appeared.

This one was a classic Mr. Macho, middle-aged with a beer belly and cropped graying hair. Morgana granted him a thin smile.

"I'm alright, thank you."

"Are you sure?" Mr. Macho was apparently also bold, as he sat down next to her without an invitation and slung an arm around the back of her chair. He leaned in so close to her face that she could smell how he'd been hitting up the airport bar, and he whispered conspiratorially, "He might leave you alone if you look like you're with someone."

Morgana was torn three ways. She could either smile politely like her father raised her to do, punch him in the face like she raised herself to do, or play damsel in distress which would, at least, get her laid later. She settled for a polite, grimacing smile and said, "No, thank you. I'm fine."

"Just trying to help," the man said, patting her thigh with an _extremely_unwelcome caress.

Her hand moved back for a slap just as a police badge was shoved into Mr. Macho's face.

"I think you need to back away, sir," the paper-tossing policeman said, flipping his long brown hair in a way that was obviously supposed to make Morgana swoon.

Mr. Macho's hands instantly went up in surrender, but he didn't move from the seat. "I was just helping the lady out, seeing as how _some_ people wouldn't leave her alone."

Officer _tall, immature, and sexy_ laughed, tucking his badge back into his jean pocket. "She's my wife. If she couldn't handle paper airplanes, she wouldn't have married me."

Mr. Macho raised his eyebrows and looked at Morgana for confirmation. She sighed.

"Yes, unfortunately it's true. Now shoo." She waved her hands until Mr. Macho was up and walking away.

Almost immediately, her husband, Gwaine, the officer who really shouldn't be carrying a gun ever if he was really that childish, climbed over the back of the seat and plopped himself down next to her.

"Did you like my notes?" He asked with a self-satisfied smile.

Morgana shook her head and smirked with amusement. "You were much smoother when we met. I have no idea what happened."

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. "Too long out of practice."

"Hmm." She grabbed his free hand and put it on her thigh, where the other man's had been, and tried to rub the creep's feel off her. Gwaine seemed to get it. He rubbed his thumb over the spot possessively.

"It's probably for the best," she said absently.

Gwaine chuckled and kissed her cheek. "Definitely for the best."

Above them, the sign changed from _delayed_ to _boarding._


End file.
